Alphabet Drabbles
by VictoryCrush
Summary: A series of drabbles and oneshots through the ABC's. BAMF!Merlin and bromance. Now up: "Cowl- guess who still doesn't own one?"
1. A is for Authority Issues

**ALPHABET DRABBLE**

**by Victorycrush**

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first drabble collection, so please let me know what you think!

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**1. AUTHORITY- a certain warlock has issues with it**

Merlin walked up to the gate, minuscule before the towering metal iron-grid portcullis, and knocked on the small window that was latched shut from the inside. It creaked inwards, a wide-set, grubby face pressing itself outwards.

"State your business."

"My name is Merlin," said Merlin, "I'm here to talk with Lord Genris."

"No civilians, peasants, or solicitors," said the guards blandly, by rote, "Please send a letter to the Chief of Security, Rodger Stalfree, to request an appointment with the Lord Genris."

"I'm not a solicitor and I don't have time to schedule an appointment," insisted Merlin, resisting the need to scratch at his stitches, "It's a matter of utmost urgency. Tell him King Arthur sent me."

"Do you have official identification?"

"Official-? No! Listen! The prince sent me here as fast as I could so that I could speak with your master. Lives are at stake, you understand? You have to let me in."

"No identification, no admittance," replied the guard, not at all contrite, "Have a nice day."

And the little window was shut.

For a moment, Merlin didn't move. His stitches itched at his throat and his head ached from the pounding fever that was growing under his skin. With one pale and clammy hand he pointed at the castle and muttered a nonsense word.

If, in those days, aerial camera shots could be taken, the viewer might have noticed one of the bricks at the very top of the South Tower as it twitched in its mortar, groaned, and then, like an arrow, shot straight into the air. As it was, in those days, one had to view tower-tops from the ground, so it gave the illusion that a bird had taken to the air. Very quickly.

The brick beside it quickly followed. And then the one after that. And the one after.

After a few seconds of this, one of the guards patrolling that particular tower had the misfortune of noticing that the ledge seemed much shorter than he remembered. In the next second, two more bricks shot into the air, joining their brethren high above. The guard yelped, stumbled backwards as more and more unraveled from the tower, starting to unravel the steps, which he quickly descended. He ran down, screaming about the castle being ripped apart by invisible incubi (which isn't at all correct, but we must remember that magic was outlawed and many magic stories have suffered for it) and the servants and noblemen who saw him only had minutes to laugh at him before the ceiling above began to fully disappear and work down the walls.

Soon all the castle was in a panic, running downstairs as far as they could, grabbing worldly possessions or last-kisses or whatever else people are prone to grab at in what they think are their last moments on earth. Assembled in the courtyard (which was becoming less of a court and more of a field with piles of jumbled furniture) the people of the castle had no choice but to stare at the bricks that were assembling in the exact order that they had been taken, only several hundred meters into the air.

"The castle will crush us!" screamed one hysterical woman, pointing unnecessarily at the floating castle that continued to knit back together what was being unraveled from the ground.

At long last, not a single brick or silly little window was left, and Merlin stepped forward, his hand still pointed at the castle that sat so blissfully, like a giant gray whale, over all of their heads.

"I need to speak with Lord Genris," Merlin said again, and thought that he might just look a little more convincing now that his eyes were a molten gold. "Now."

The same grubby guard who had refused him tentatively gave a well-dressed nobleman a shove forwards. The rest of the court stood cowed and far to the back of what was once their impenetrable fortress.

"Yes?" Lord Genris squeaked.


	2. B is for Baking

**Alphabet Drabbles**

**by Victorycrush**

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys or the bread. Sadly.

A/N: This takes place after the events of the season 3 finale. AKA: the attack of the mighty firebreathing lizard.

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**BAKE- certain warlocks have to make do**

Here's what happens when a dragon breaks your castle: things break. Explicitly things like _walls _and _rooms _and _the entire royal kitchens_.

This meant an entire month of outdoor cooking, which was fine for the knights (they liked shoving things onto lances and roasting them over an open fire just as much as the next blockhead), but certain people (say, like vegetarian warlocks or dainty-fingered lady guests) could not survive on roasted meat forever. Things like bread, things like baking, are a bit trickier when one is exposed to the elements.

"So," says Merlin, cracking his alarmingly prominent knuckles. "Here's what I've planned."

"All I see is a pile of shields," remarks Arthur.

There is, in fact, a pile of strategically assembled shield lying in the noon-day sun. But, as Merlin reveals to his prince, they are not merely a pile of hot shields.

"They're an oven!" Merlin exclaims gleefully. "See? The metal gets all hot from the sun, then traps the heat inside the shields and you put the dough or cake or whatever inside and bake it!"

"My good shields are _not_ culinary equipment, _Mer_lin!"

"Oh, yes they are! Just smell that lovely bread. Take a whiff."

"...Take this apart. Later. After the bread." Arthur swipes at the drool at the corner of his mouth as discreetly as a prince of his size and presence can. "Idiot."


	3. C is for Cowls

**Alphabet Drabbles**

**by VictoryCrush**

**Disclaimer: I own Merlin's weather. That's why it's absent from the show.**

A/N: Next chapter is the letter "d". Requests are welcome because participation is FUN.

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**COWL- guess who has yet to own one?**

"Merlin, you _need _to own a cloak."

"No, I really don't."

"They're dead useful."

"No, they aren't."

"What about when it's cold?"

"I have a jacket."

"For God's sake, Merlin. Even _Gaius _has one by now!"

"So?"

"So, you're the servant to the King! It's embarrassing!"

"You know what's embarrassing? When people around here try for stealth."

"You say that as if you are suddenly competent."

"Well- Well _you _say _that_ as if a cloak _makes _you competent!"

"At what? Being fashionably warm?"

"For sneaking around the forest at night, you prat! And really, what's the point of that? A hood is for keeping the sun or rain out of your eyes. _When_, exactly, was the last time you ever saw it rain around here? And why is it that everyone thinks that a huge, drafty, looming cloak will make them harder to see? I sneak out of the castle all the time without one and no one _ever_ catches.._.!"_

"...Catches?"

"...A... Cold?"

"Nice try."


End file.
